Wolf's Tome
by Hector Enix
Summary: Sarutobi, fearing for Naruto, signs a contract with the Archmage Tyro Deth; He is to take the child and train it to defend itself. Unfortunately for Sanity, Tyro never specified a method. Prelude to "Fox's Grimoire".
1. Chapter 1

Hello my Freaky Darlings, I'm back with Howl of the Arcana's rewrite...thing...yeah...

First of all, for those of you who didn't see the poll, this is supposed to detail "Naruto's" apprenticeship under Tyro Deth and will not accumulate a great deal of chapters. The Next story will be his return to Konaha.

A few things will be different as well: "His" Lycanthropic status is changing first of all, The spells will be either in Elven(Not proper Elven mind you), or Dragonic, and as this was supposed to be based off of D&D, I feel I should say that "he" will not be using magic as one might expect.

Now then, let's begin before I give too much away.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or D&D

* * *

Sarutobi looked at the contract he had signed with slight relief, hoping that this would save a decent amount of trouble.

Sure, not all of the village would actively try to kill the child, but it's not like they'd all _prevent_ his death if they saw the rest of the village trying to murder him. He wasn't sure how the seal on the child worked, but he was decently sure that if the child died, the fox would go with it. While the logical thing to do would be to kill the child to prevent any sort of demonic possession later in life, the old shinobi couldn't bring himself to do it.

Childbirth had killed his mother and the Kyuubi had technically killed his father, and to extinguish this small flame that represented the end of two families seemed... inhuman.

"But to let him live with whispers from a demon for Kami knows how long...", he muttered, watching the sleeping babe toss and turn, "This is the lesser evil, if what you say is true."

"Whether or not I'm lying matters little at this point; you've signed the contract, and the boy is mine until I see fit to return him.", the blue-robed man replied, rolling up the scroll and sliding it into a pouch at his waist. "I imagine he'll return near age fifty or so..."

Sarutobi nearly choked on his pipe.

"Fifty years? It would truly take that long to teach him to control the demon's influence?", Sarutobi worriedly asked. He had been under the impression that this would be a normal apprenticeship, lasting a decade or so as most did; but fifty years...

"Calm down; I don't expect you to appreciate the complexities of Lycanthropy or Interdimensional Transportation Spells, but the child should be back in sixteen of your years, looking sixteen to twenty.", The figure explained, sounding extremely bored.

"But... didn't you just say-"

"As I said, I don't expect you to appreciate the complexities of the pup's situation. Containing a demon, especially one restrained by such a poor binding agent, will extend his life and slow his aging process. I intend to give him a gift that will further increase those attributes.", he explained, picking up the child and cradling it in his arms. "I will train him until I think him ready, then I will send him back sixteen years from now. If you do not understand, you will in sixteen years."

With that, the figure turned and walked towards the door. Before Sarutobi could stop him, a swirling blue portal tore it's way into existence in the man's path, swallowing the tall man and the yondaime's heir. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

A wrinkled finger hovered over the button that would summon the Anbu, but something stopped him from pressing it. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps guilt, or perhaps doubt. He leaned back into his chair and sighed, already thinking of a cover story.

"Minato, Kushina... forgive an Old Man for his folly."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two of Wolf's Tome, My most Freaky of Darlings!

Fair Warning: I didn't put a lot of effort in, since this is just supposed to be a LOOSE backstory. A little info is better than none. Just don't spam me with reviews about bad story-telling or something.

* * *

Age: 4

Tyro watched from the balcony as the child from the human world played in the courtyard with a few of his other apprentices. The boy, having been stripped of his name by the archmage on the balcony, was adapting to his lycanthropy quite well.

The games they played stimulated latent instincts, forcing the children to become true beasts little by little. A high pitched howl from the "leader" bringing the other's into an attack frenzy on a target in the courtyard was proof enough. Most of them would heed his own howls later in life; the only one who wouldn't was the ninja child.

The Nine-tailed-fox, or the Kyuubi as he had heard it called, had altered the poison that had changed the boy. Still, Werefoxes were not a race to be trifled with. They tended to lean towards speed and cunning more than other lycanthropes did, but that only made him a more prime candidate for apprenticeship.

Tyro whirled around, intent on beginning the child's lessons in the morning. He had high hopes for the child... provided he survived the training.

And the River... that tended to thin the flock too...

Age: 8

"What does magic exist to do?", Tyro asked as he and the boy walked through a dark forest. He wore his usual blue robes, but his black fur blended into the shadows of the forest.

"It allows us control over the world; It exists to Alter the world.", the child returned, meekly. He had been awoken early, and he didn't feel comfortable in this forest. Archmage Tyro wasn't exactly a warm person, and the midnight black fur and burning crimson eyes didn't help.

The Boy didn't dare ask why his Master had taken him into the Crystalmyst Forests, for he had seen the werewolf kill people for less. His power, even without being augmented by his masterful Metamagic, was terrifying; the fact that he could remain in hybrid form during the New Moon was a testament to that fact.

The sound of rushing water brought the boy from his thoughts.

"Child, I am going to be nice and tell you what is about to happen.", Tyro started, not planning on revealing the importance and significance of what was to come, "Tonight, you are going to die. If you walk out of it alive, then you shall become a full-fledge apprentice, and I shall teach you true Arcana. If you don't... Well, let's just say I'm not going fishing."

Before the boy could even begin to shudder, they broke from the forest and came upon a river. It's water's were as black as night, and almost sounded like a soft wailing as went by.

"This river has gone by many names over the ages; it is the only one in the world that flows down one mountain and up another, straight to the summit. Such a feat inspires awe, and such awe inspires names; that's without going into the names it's powers have inspired." Tyro admitted, pointing at the rushing waters.

"What I am... supposed to do?", the Boy hesitantly asked, hating the cowardice he was displaying.

"This is the River that carries souls to the afterlife; to swim in it is to die. That is what you are to do; you are to swim across the river.", Tyro stated, walking forward. He stepped up and began walking on the air. "You will die. If you make it to the other side after you die, however, then I will train you."

"But...if I die how-"

"Silence; I did not say you could question me. Strip, and start swimming; The River is a mile across, and you only have an hour."

Without another word, the Archmage turned and walked over the river, silent as the night.

The boy shuddered at the task before him; to move forward was to die, but to run was a far worse death. Between the River and Tyro, he picked the life-stealing waters.

The simple robes fell from him until he was nude before the waters, shivering in the cold night air. He longed for his warm fur, but there was no way to change during the new moon.

Instincts screamed in protest as he ran forward and jumped into the water, hoping the momentum would somehow help. When he actually hit the water though, he realized the difficulty of this task; the instant it touched him, if felt as though frost had formed on his bones. The unnatural cold filled his being, willing him to sink to the bottom.

He jumped when something brushed against his foot, and fear of whatever lost soul might be trying to drag him down sent him forward. He struggled against the current, with each stroke making the water seem thicker and heavier; every drop became a brick on his body and the River itself became a mountain that wished to bury him.

His body numbed until he had to will his arms and legs to move, not knowing if they were actually still attached or not. His eyelids felt like there were weights on them, and he struggled to keep the dark water out of his mouth.

Finally it happened; his mouth opened a fraction of an inch, and the water poured in, forcing it's way in. The cold burned within him and he could no longer bear the weight, and thus he sank. He felt the weight around him, and within him, trying to crush everything from him and succeeding.

Out of nowhere, a burst of willpower came from within the boy's stomach. Then, there was nothing; the water drained that as well.

Amethyst eyes forced themselves open, refusing to die. An unknown fire filled their limbs and burnt away the cold of the water. They picked up speed, moving forward and up to get air as the water almost tried to jump out of the way. What once seemed to be earth turned to air as the amethyst eyes flew through the water like a bat out of hell.

Tyro bore a smirk upon his wolf-lips as the child flew from the waters and landed before him; it had gone as planned. He cast a few quick charms to dry and warm the child before conjuring a blanket to cover the werefox.

The boy had entered the river and died; through willpower alone, conscious or not, the child had forced himself to be reincarnated on the spot. The will to alter yourself was key to having the power to alter the world.

"I'm going to guess and say he's now a greater Fae, with the Lycanthropy woven into his very being... or should I say _her_ very being...", Tyro muttered, raising an eyebrow at the unconscious youth. "Well, this is the first time someone's been reincarnated as a separate gender, but I suppose it's nothing out of the ordinary. Reincarnation is a tricky business after all."

He lifted the young girl off the ground, using his arms instead of magic, and half chuckled.

"Sarutobi is going to shit himself when you get back. _Vaeresaes _(Returner)."

As the spell left his lips, the fabric of reality shifted and altered, gently lifting him through the rift.

"Rest child; you've a true apprenticeship to begin tomorrow, and I am not an easy master."

Age: 25

"Like this?", she asked, stirring the cauldron clockwise.

"Have you lost an arm yet?"

"...No...", she answered carefully.

"Then you're doing it right."

Tyro had to admit, the girl had shown promise from day one. Arcane training was not something that could be done in a few years, and the way that Tyro taught it made longevity a must. Despite her small size and young form, making her look no more than ten in human years and often making some things difficult, she gave everything her all. Tyro had, on many occasions, caught her asleep in the library, head in a book.

Still, she had struggled with her beast side throughout the early years, meaning that they were only getting to the actual use of magic and alchemy now.

"Remember not to let your hair fall in; Lycan hair has it's uses and this isn't one of them.", Tyro cautioned, seeing a strand of her long hair start to shift forward as she leaned over the cauldron. She had to stand on a stool to be at the right height though, so the leaning was unavoidable.

"Thanks Master.", she replied, tucking the hair behind her vulpine ear.

She was short and lithe, an effect from her Fae blood, but she had the sort of strength that humans would shit themselves over residing in that lithe body(1). Her skin was pale, but still held a sort of creamy hue, and shining amethyst eyes carefully watch the potion before her with narrow pupils from a sharp face. Her long hair, a slightly darker amethyst than her eyes, fell to her waist; due to the magical properties of her hair, due to both Lycanthropy and her Fae Blood, she kept it tied back. When she took either hybrid form or full-beast, her fur was the same color as her hair, though her paws, belly, and multiple tail tips were white.

Another oddity caused by the Kyuubi; Tyro told her that, due to the nature of the seal, when she forced herself to reincarnate she also reincarnated the Kyuubi into her soul. This, he surmised after a careful scan, left one soul in place of two. The effects were mainly cosmetic, leaving her with vulpine ears, long canines, and one fox tail at all times; even the new moon. Her hybrid and beast forms both had nine, though she had none of the destructive might that the Bijou had.

"Now for the Nightshade...", she muttered, reaching towards the shelf behind her with her tail. Tyro had admitted that Werefoxes did have an advantage of prehensile tails, despite normal foxes not having them. A moment later, the tail deposited a single purple flower in her hand, which she let drop into the cauldron.

The mixture turned from a acid green to a bloody red as the petals melted into the mixture. Tyro said nothing as the girl hesitantly took a ladle-full of the potion and put it into a crystal vial; his method was trail and error until he had to stop the trail from blowing up his castle.

Luckily, the girl was good about not blowing things up unintentionally.

Within the vial, the potion turned blue, denoting the werefox's success. Said Lycan let out a breath of relief.

"Potion of Inflict Light Wounds, success.", she stated happily, putting the stopper in the vial.

"Now then", Tyro began, motioning to the cauldron, "Do you know why I'm teaching you how to make harmful potions?"

"Because people are stupid?"

"Correct"

Age: 30

"Recite Magic Missile's full incantation.", Tyro commanded, a fireball in his hand. His apprentice was balancing on a narrow point of a spear... fifty feet from the unforgiving acid pit below her.

"Oh ye arrogant king, fall prey to magic arrows!", she called back.

"Now do it in Elven."

"On o Eisyndral Col, thar vi sai tandros eisyrn!", she called back again, stemming the flow of magic within her hands to prevent the spell from actually launching. The build up of mana, for they had been doing this for thirteen hours, was starting to hurt.

"What are the reagents for True Strike?"

"A small effigy of a target; it can be used multiple times"

"What is Scrying?"

"The act of using a reflective surface to observe a far off place, or one you couldn't normally reach and see."

"What is the average flight speed for a swallow laden with a coconut?"

"Its- Wait, what?"

She swore as the fireball knocked her from the spear and made her crash into the wall, knocking the rest of the wind from her lungs. She did manage to hold on the the ledge though, preventing her from falling into the acid below. Tyro didn't joke around.

"I suggest you focus on the incantation for Levitation, unless you'd like to regrow your skin... provided you even get out in time..."

The old lycan then proceeded to kick the werefox from her ledge.

Age: 35

Tyro had a hint of pride in his eyes as he looked at his apprentice's indigo robes, marking her as a Journeyman mage. She had, by the grace of a deity unknown, survived the training that Tyro had put her through, and it was now time for her to delve into a deeper study, of her choice.

They stood in the grand Library.

"Well, young one, I have the world at my disposal; speak your desire, and you shall learn everything I know about it.", Tyro offered, standing before the mage in his full wolf form. He towered over damn near everything, standing Twenty feet tall at the shoulder.

"I can choose... any field of magic? Any at all?", she asked carefully, trusting the werewolf to be his normally chaotic self.

"Any, without reservation. Even if you wish to learn the Lycan Slayer's magic, I will teach it to you. However, this shall be your course of study for the next fifteen years, so I suggest you put some thought into it.", He replied, smirking with fangs a moment later. "I suppose you already have though; you werefoxes are always thinking ahead."

"What gave it away?", she asked innocently, not hiding her guileful smirk.

"Your eyes keep darting to the "Good Section". Massive area attacks, Devastation, Mind-fucks, Summonings, and High Arcana in general."

"You know me too well, Master Tyro.", she admitted, chuckling lightly; it was a light, melodic noise. "Though I confess, I don't know which I want to study."

"You do, you just haven't realized it yet. Now then, report here at sunrise, and be prepared for migraines; it is not an easy subject."

The old wolf turned to leave, but a hesitant breath that came from his apprentice made him stop. He looked back at her with a raised brow hovering above his burning crimson eye.

"There is something more that you wish to ask?". It was more of a statement than a question.

"...When...can I have my name?", she asked, sounding torn. To have no name, and to be forbidden to name herself, was a grating existence.

Tyro scoffed and shook his head.

"When I think you're ready to be called something other than young one or apprentice. Names should describe a person, and that is all you are right now: a young apprentice."

Age: 50

She sat patiently, a calm expression on her face. She was in the middle of a large, though shallow, pool; the body of water was surrounded by the Deth pack: all of Tyro's family and subordinates, numbering in the hundreds. They had come to see their half-sister named under the full moon.

She, like everyone else, was nude, though a flash of light from the full moon soon covered the modesty of all with a menagerie of fur. Still, it did little to hide how kind the years had been to her; the howling lycanthropes on the shore might have been of a mind to ignore it, but that didn't mean they didn't see it.

She had, due to her mixed blood, grown in a unique fashion; she was 6'6", a height not overly uncommon to those with lycan or Fae blood, but her form was as lithe as an elf while still holding all the might of a raging beast. Her "Fae" form was fair-skinned, though a little pale from decades in the castle, and her amethyst hair fell to the back of her knees. The Fox ears and tail had grown with her, leaving her a stunning beauty. Her Hybrid form, as she was under the full moon at that very moment, was just as exotic; her fur was medium length, and as soft as silk despite being as strong as steel. The eight additional tails were, Just like the first, able to deliver blows just as strong as the one's from her fists and feet. The white fur that covered her chest and belly was the same color as her tail tips.

In both forms, as her size didn't change and no body parts grew to proportion, she had C-cup breasts and a shapely figure. Her claws and fangs, both alabaster in color, left her teeth and fingernails the same color. Also present in any form, were her Amethyst eyes, though they were a little darker than the actual crystal was, just like her hair color.

"Mother Moon, hear our song!", Tyro shouted from the shore, using Sylvan. His words initiated the chorus of howls that was also know as the Lycan's Song; the tribute of werewolves to the moon. Each type of lycan had a different style of tribute, but the song of the werewolves was something to be wary of nonetheless.

Tyro's howl, laced with Arcane intent, blasted away the clouds that were slowly moving in front of the moon.

"Bear witness, Mother, to our rite!", he shouted, still in Sylvan. "A century has passed with none joining the Deth lineage; no more!"

"We have always welcomed others of the Lycan race into our homes, but never our Pack. I say this now: She is not a Wolf, but I know here to have the heart of one.", Vladimir, Tyro's son, added when his father finished. He stood several feet shorter than his twenty-foot-father, but he was just as imposing. "She bears no name, and we shall rectify that under the blessed light of our Mother!"

Tyro, once Vladimir was finished, howled once more; this time, however, the girl in the water felt the blast of mana strike her.

"I name her Lysylta Deth!", the Alpha called, pointing to the werefox. "Rise now, Fae Fox of the Wolves!"

Lysylta felt a rush unknown to her as she stood up, feeling the gaze of every pack-member and hearing their howls. Weakly, for she had never been able to howl well, she joined them, picking up volume only after the frenzy had taken her as well.

"Let us Hunt, brothers and sisters!", she cried, sealing the rite of adoption.

The night was bloody.

* * *

And there's chapter two. Here were the various elven words that made it into the "consideration" category, along with Lysylta's name's pronunciation.

Ta- fox

Syl- Faerie

Ru- Dream

Il- Mist

Ty- Crystal

Ly- Wolf

La- Night

Deth is actually Elven for Eternal. Believe it or not, the name Deth was chosen by a friend of mine three or four years before either of us had ever laid eyes on Elven.

Lysylta (Li-Sil-tah) (Wolf-Faerie-Fox) (Fae Fox of the Wolves)

(1) As in... she's stronger than a full grown human male, but she looks like a child.


	3. Chapter 3

This is the Last Chapter of Wolf's Tome. The "continuation" will be under the Title "Fox's Grimoire", and will detail Lysylta returning to Konaha and her life in the Elemental Nations.

* * *

(Three days later)

"Lysylta...", she muttered, taken by the gift Tyro had given her. She knew that, after all this time, her apprenticeship was finally over; she had finished packing a moment ago.

"Add what you wish to it; never remove Deth.", Vladimir warned from her doorway. His human form was massive, standing at ten feet without shoes and very broad. He wore only tattered trousers and his war-scythe, Fang-Scar, rested on his back.

"You know me; I'll come back with a name so long that even Alpha won't be able to say it in one breath.", Lysylta returned, smiling softly. Vladimir had always been a refreshing change from his Father's gruff care; a bit awkward to talk to at points, due to the fact he often spoke before he thought.

"Remember that he's the God of both Wolves and Destruction Magic; he doesn't need breath to say anything. Still, he could use the chuckle.", The black-haired wereworg admitted, shifting a little. "So, are you determined to go back?"

Lysylta studied the worg for a moment before answering.

"It is my birthplace, just as this is my homeland. I think I need to go there, for one reason or another. I'll come back, Brother.", she assured him. "You're an Immortal; time shouldn't bother you."

"Yes, but you are perfectly mortal. I don't want to see you dead, Sister.", he countered. "Still, I guess I'm just getting old and worrysome. Ignore my pestering and enjoy yourself, _Denmother_ Lysylta."

The werefox groaned as the older Lycan turned and left, laughing his ass off all the while.

Normally, she wouldn't have a title without having done something epic or worthy of legend, and she would have never had one based on rank this early in her life. Since she was the only Werefox in the Pack, however, she had to bear the highest title for foxes: Denmother. It was, in someways, better than the other title bestowed upon her: Skulk-Queen Syl.

Looking in the mirror, she sighed and summoned her favorite robes. To a Fae, she was still a child at fifty years old and looked like a child. To the shorter lived races, particularly humans, she looked like she was barely into her twenties, let alone fifty years old.

"Not old enough to be the Mother of anything...", she muttered. "Then again, one generally needs a male to produce offspring."

She laughed at the though, letting the melodic sound resonate through her empty room. Males annoyed her ninety percent of the time, and they were too... forward, for their own good.

"Besides, breasts make good pillows.", she muttered, smiling at her reflection as she put on her favorite "witch" hat. Her discovery of her sexuality a few years prior had been one of little consequence; Vladimir made lighthearted jokes, Tyro didn't give two shits, and the occasional visitor from the pack shrugged and accepted it. Kira, Tyro's mate and considered by many to be the more sadistic of the two, had actually supplied the young girl with several crystal balls that contained whole galleries of nude women. The Alpha Female had waved it off as providing for the Pack, despite Lysylta not having been adopted at that point.

"I am going to miss them...", she muttered. Vladimir was an ass, Tyro was a psychopath, Kira was fucking nuts most of the time, and they were her family; A bat-shit-loco family, but they were still hers.

"I'm touched.", A silken voice said from the doorway, making Lysylta jump and whirl around. Kira stood there, nude as always, with a light smile on her lips. "Are you ready to go, Syl?"

"As I'll ever be.", she returned. "And why can't you-"

"Tyro and I have been calling you Syl since you swam through the river Styx. That is who you are to us. Lysylta also seems a bit... formal, to me at least. Syl is something you would say to a pack-member, Lysylta is said to a stranger.", Kira cut her off, walking over and resting a hand on her shoulder. Despite the size of her mate and children, Kira was only five foot nine.

"I know, but I wanted to enjoy my full name for a week or so before I shortened it!", she complained, grabbing the roll of parchment with her belongings sealed inside it's runes. She turned to the door and walked out, Kira close behind her. "So... what do you think of my "titles"?"

"I'll call you Denmother when you're mated and have had a kit or two, Skulk-Queen Syl.", Kira replied, her tone joking.

"You, of all people, should understand why I'm not getting that title under those conditions."

"Fifth Tome of Tahlianna the Archmage, Page nine-hundred and sixty, middle of the page.", came the calm reply. Syl raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"An Eladrin who was in a similar situation. You'll enjoy it, trust me."

Syl, wisely, decided not to press. Kira had never given her any malevolent information, but that didn't mean it wasn't mischievous. That, and she wasn't sure she really wanted to know what the elder Lycan was talking about.

"Yeah... I'm just gonna stick to swinging Thyzandros and throwing spells around like candy at a parade.", Syl replied cautiously, making mention of the Mythril War-Scythe that Vladimir had given to her on her fortieth birthday. Kira shrugged and kept walking.

Soon enough, they came to the courtyard and the large portal that would take Syl to the Elemental countries. The presence of the entire pack, however, was unexpected. Kaldrava, a gray-furred female, walked up to explain.

"Came to see you off, Fox.", she said in broken common as Syl forced the transformation to stall. She couldn't resist it entirely, but she could stave it off long enough to get through the portal and hope it wasn't a full moon on the other side.

"Thank you, Plains-runner.", Syl replied, inclining her head. She looked over to see Tyro standing beside the portal, in human form for once. "Is Tyro coming with me?", she asked Kira.

"Just long enough to be diplomatic; you're fifty years old, but to the humans of your world, you've been gone about seventeen years. And, if memory serves, you left as a boy.", Kira reminded her. "Tyro, if nothing else, is good at making people see things in a new light... or curb-stomping acceptance of facts into their skulls...", she added, smiling wickedly.

"Come Lysylta, we have minds to twist and values to warp!", Tyro called, a wiry smile on his face. Syl nodded and rushed over to the Alpha Male of the Deth Pack.

"Minds to twist and Values to warp?", she asked as they stepped towards the portal. Tyro chuckled.

"_Pas Mal_"

The howling of the entire pack was the Farewell they recieved.

* * *

And that's the end of Wolf's Tome. "Pas Mal" is Elven for "Damn Straight"

The rest will be in the "Fox's Grimoire", so be sure to go read that!

**NOTICE!**

**You NEED to go to my profile and look at the Picture of Lysylta; I am NOT describing her clothing or scythe in "Fox's Grimoire" in great detail, so You should go get a visual reference! Btw, I did forget to draw her tail in the picture, but she does always have one!**

Thank you for Reading, My freaky Darlings! See you in the Grimoire!


End file.
